


The Song is Ending

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossing Timelines, Doctor Who Feels, Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Multiple Doctors (Doctor Who), Regeneration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master Earth. The returning Time Lords. And one Doctor, overwhelmed by his duty to stop them.</p><p>It's a good thing he has nine other Doctors by his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Song is Ending

“The signal has been sent,” The Chancellor said. “A simple task of four beats transmitted back through time—and implanted in The Master's mind as a child.

“Then we have a link to where The Master is right now,” the Lord President clarified.

“But we're still trapped inside the Time Lock, sir,” the Chancellor sighed. “The link is nothing more than a thought, an idea.”

“Then we need something to make the contact physical,” the Lord President announced. “Something... so simple.

“The Visionary’s eyes widened as she whispered, “So small and shining. Shining bright and cold. The tiny, tiny star falling, falling. Burning, burning...”

~+~

“...A star fell from the sky,” The Master stressed. “Don’t you want to know where from? Because now it makes sense, Doctor.”

Addams spoke up. “It’s an open broadcast. Don’t reply, or they’ll know where we are.”

“The whole of my life,” The Master continued. “My destiny. The star was a diamond. And the diamond is a white-point-star.”

The Doctor’s stomach lurched, and his heartbeats quickened significantly.

“And I have worked all night dissecting my new gift. Now the star is mine. I can increase the signal and use it as a life line. Do you get it now? Do you see?” The Master demanded manically. “Keep watching, Doctor. This should be spectacular! Over and out.”

Wilfred looked to The Doctor. “What’s he on about? What’s he doing? Doctor, what does that mean?”

“A white-point-star is only found on one planet,” The Doctor gasped. “Gallifrey. Which means...it’s the Time Lords. The Time Lords are returning!”

Wilfred was confused by the Doctor’s tone of distress. “Well, I mean, that’s good, isn’t it? That’s your people!”

Instead of answering, The Doctor snatched up Wilfred’s gun and dashed away.

~+~

“Now the High Council of Time Lords must vote!” The Lord President’s voice rang out. “Whether we die here today or return to the waking world and complete the ultimate sanction. For this is the hour when either Gallifrey falls...or Gallifrey rises!”

The many Time Lords in the room roared after him: “ _Gallifrey rises!_ ”

~+~

“But you said that your people were dead, past tense.” Wilfred just didn’t understand.

The Doctor could barely muster words to describe the peril of their situation. “Inside the Time War. And the whole War was time-locked. Like, sealed inside a bubble. It's not a bubble, but just think of a bubble. Nothing can get in or out of the Timelock. Don't you see? Nothing can get in or out except something that was already there.”

“The signal!” Wilfred exclaimed. “Since he was a kid!”

“They can follow the signal,” The Doctor agonized. “They can escape before they die.”

“Well, there’ll be a big reunion. We can have a party!” Wilfred protested.

“There will be no party,” The Doctor disagreed.

“But I’ve heard you talk about your people like they’re wonderful!”

“That’s how I choose to remember them,” The Doctor admitted with difficulty. “The Time Lords of old...But then they went to war, an endless War, and it changed them right to the core. You’ve seen my enemies, Wilf. The Time Lords are more dangerous than _any_ of them.”

“Time Lords? What Lords?!” Addams sputtered. “Anyone want to explain?”

The Doctor whirled into action. “Right! Yes! You! This is a salvage ship, yes? You've been trawling the asteroid fields for junk.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“So you’ve got asteroid lasers!” The Doctor stressed.

“Yeah, but they’re all frazzled!” Rossiter cut in.

“Consider them unfrazzled!” The Doctor declared. Hastily he assigned different roles and then bounded toward the wheel.

“This is my ship and you're not moving it,” Addams growled. “Step away from the wheel!”

The Doctor didn’t meet her eyes, instead staring straight ahead toward the earth. “There's an old Earth saying, Captain, a phrase of great power and wisdom and consolation to the soul in times of need.

Addams sighed. “What's that, then?”

“ _Allons-y!_ ”

~+~

“He’s moving, sir,” the Operator-Master announced.

“Get a fix on him!” the General-Master commanded.

“He’s moving very fast.”

~+~

“Come on, come on!” The Doctor pleaded.

“You are blinking, flipping mad!” Addams raged.

“You two,” The Doctor addressed Wilfred and Rossiter, “what did I say?! Lasers!”

“What for?” Rossiter asked.

Sometimes The Doctor could barely believe the ignorance of some. “Because of the missiles! We’ve got to fight off an entire planet!”

Soon enough Addams exclaimed, “We’ve got incoming!”

The Doctor opened his mouth, but before he could tell Rossiter and Wilfred to fire, something appeared in front of the front window:

A blue police box.

“Now, where did that star land?” a familiar voice mused, oblivious to the fact that they were on the communications channel. The Doctor instantly went rigid.

“Doctor!” he hissed.

“Do I know you?” the rich timbre was one of surprise.

“I’m The Doctor too!” The Doctor stressed.

“Well, hello! A pleasure to make my own acquaintance,” The Fourth hailed him warmly.

“Listen, I need to know what you’re doing here!”

“Well, you can’t expect me to leave you—me—to figure out the white-point-star mystery all alone!” The Fourth exclaimed. “That wouldn’t be decent at all!”

Another TARDIS was just materializing next to the Fourth’s. The brassy grumbling of The Sixth could be heard mere seconds later. “Of course other incarnations would steal _my_ moment!”

“What do you know, I’m just popping in too! Seems to be a good day for it!” The Fifth laughed cheerfully.

“This is fantastic,” The Ninth caustically announced his appearance. “All the previous sods, come to chin-wag at me!”

“Who are those people?!” Addams demanded to know, eyes wide as she counted the nine blue boxes that were emerging from thin air.

“Umm...long story,” The Tenth sighed. He leaned forward, calling out, “Hey, all! Just letting you know, I’m you, but we—I am going to die pretty quick here. There are missiles headed right for us!”

“Missiles!” The Seventh echoed in shock. “Who would be firing on us?!”

“Any number of enemies,” The Second reminded him. “Daleks, Cybermen—”

“It’s The Master!” The Tenth hollered. There was a long, tense silence and then all The Doctors burst out with questions.

“It can’t be him—!”

“I sent him to the other end of space—!”

“There’s no way he could’ve returned so quickly—!”

“Where did he get missiles—?!”

“He’s supposed to be dead—!”

The First, who had been to this point been silent, suddenly leaned forward and bellowed into the speaker: “ _Quiet!_ ” Every Doctor flinched at his tone. “That’s better!” he continued sharply. “Now, we’d best focus on overwhelming those missiles instead of each other!”

The same plan occurred to all of them at the same time. It came in bits and pieces, each part with a different voice.

“We can each—”

“—draw some of them—”

“—off of your ship, Doctor—”

“—with our TARDISes!”

“And then get out of the way, because I’ve got lasers at the ready!” The Tenth ordered.

“Righto!”

“Very good of you!”

“Fantastic!”

Even as the missiles zoomed toward them, The Tenth felt a strange sort of peace scrub away some of his dread. Perhaps with all of this extra help, he could avoid the Prophecy of the Ood. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to die...

This was his hope, but he wasn’t sure his next actions would be the most promising for that outcome. As soon as the missiles were detoured and destroyed, The Tenth took up Wilfred’s revolver, opened a hatch in the floor of the ship, and jumped down onto the Naismith Mansion.

 _Thud-tinkle-tinkle_. The glass of the ceiling clattered all around him as he landed hard on the marble floor. He lay there, dully groaning. The Fifth’s breath brushed his ear.

“Why did you do that?” his concerned voice asked in a whisper. “I could’ve caught you and simply brought you down.”

“Foolish,” The Sixth agreed as he crouched next to The Tenth’s writhing body. He seemed as though he were about to say more, but his words died away when he saw Rassilon and four other Time Lords standing above them. The other Doctors also were silent.

“My Lord Master. My Lord...Doctors.” Rassilon was clearly discomfited as all ten incarnations narrowed their eyes at him. After a moment he cleared his throat and announced deliberately, “We are gathered for the end.”

“L-Listen to me,” The Tenth panted. He tried to push himself up, but he couldn’t get his limbs working.

“Which one of you?” Rassilon inquired cynically.

The Ninth stepped up. He knew of the Time War like none other. “You can’t do this,” he announced coldly.

“It is a fitting paradox,” Rassilon commented evenly to The Master, “that our salvation comes at the hands of our most infamous child.”

The Seventh’s shoulders rolled in his ire. “Oh, no, he’s not saving you.”

“Don’t you see what he’s doing?” The Tenth asked.

“Hey, no, hey! That’s mine, hush,” The Master spoke up. He pushed The Ninth out of the way and then rubbed his hand on his pants, muttering in wonder, “Leather...?” Clearing his throat, he got back on subject. “Look around you. I’ve transplanted myself into every single Human being. But who wants a mongrel species like them? Now I can transplant myself into every single Time Lord! Oh, yes, Mr. Mister President, sir, standing there all noble and resplendent and decrepit. Think how much better you're going to look as me!” He whirled to the Doctors. “And you too! So many regenerations to choose from!”

The First smiled grimly. “Apologies, Master, but...” He gestured vaguely at the Lord President or, more specifically, at his glowing gauntlet.

The Master stood helpless as the Humans were returned to their proper forms. At last he sputtered, “No, that’s fine, that’s good, because you said salvation. I still saved you; don’t forget that.”

“The approach begins,” Rassilon said gravely.

“Approach of what?” The Second demanded.

“Something is returning,” The Tenth answered breathlessly. “There was a prophecy. Not someone, some _thing_.”

“What is it?”

“They're not just bringing back the species,” The Tenth explained. “It's Gallifrey. Right here, right now.”

“But I did this,” The Master protested to Rassilon. “I get the credit. I’m on your side.”

At that moment, Wilfred pushed his way in. “Come on, get out of the way!” he called out. “Get out of the way! Doctor?” When he spotted a technician hammering on the glass of his radiation booth, he ran toward the other.

All ten whirled to stare at him, but it was The Tenth who cried, “Wilf, don’t. Don’t!” Too late—Wilfred was in the chamber and the technician ran away free.

The Master still didn’t understand. “But this is fantastic, isn’t it? The Time Lords restored!”

“You weren’t there in the final days of the War,” the Eighth spoke in a hushed voice. “You never saw what was born. But if the Timelock's broken, then everything's coming through—not just the Daleks, but the Skaro Degradations, the Horde of Travesties, the Nightmare Child, the Could-have-been King with his army of Meanwhiles and Never-weres...The War turned into hell. And that's what you've opened, right above the Earth. Hell is descending.”

The Master leered. “My kind of world.”

“Just listen!” The Tenth snapped. “Even the Time Lords can’t survive that.”

“We will initiate the Final Sanction,” Rassilon said slowly. “The end of time will come at my hand. The rupture will continue until it rips the Time Vortex apart.”

“That's suicide!” The Third rang out in horror.

“We will ascend to become creatures of consciousness alone,” Rassilon countered fiercely. “Free of these bodies, free of time, and cause and effect, while creation itself ceases to be.”

“You see now?” The Ninth pleaded. “That's what they were planning in the final days of the War. I had to stop them!”

The Master spread his arms. “Then take me with you, Lord President. Let me ascend into glory.”

Rassilon looked on him with disgust. “You are a _disease_ , albeit a disease of our own making. No more.”

The Tenth allowed The Fifth and The Sixth to help him to his feet. Then he cocked his revolver and aimed it at Rassilon’s head. This drew a sharp breath from The First, but all the others looked on with hard expressions.

“Choose your enemy well,” Rassilon said harshly. “We are many. The Master is but one.”

“But he’s the President,” The Master piped up. “Kill him and Gallifrey could be yours.” When The Tenth whirled and pointed the gun at him, he added, “He’s to blame, not me.” Realization dawned on his face after a moment. “Oh. The link is inside my head. Kill me, the link gets broken, they go back. You never would, you _coward_.”

The Eighth watched as The Tenth whirled back and forth, face filled with confliction. He then noticed a woman standing behind Rassilon. She lifted her head from her hands and stared him right in the eyes. Then her gaze shifted slightly toward something over his shoulder. The Eighth followed her gaze and a plan instantly formed in his mind. Setting his jaw, he leapt forward and snatched the gun from The Tenth.

“Get out of the way!” he shouted tremulously. The Master hit the ground and The Eighth pulled the trigger, firing on the white-point-star that sat nearby. The link exploded and The Eighth turned to glare at Rassilon.

“The link is broken!” he barked. “Back into the Time War, Rassilon. Back into hell!”

Rassilon’s face was one of utter rage. He aimed his gauntlet, swearing, “You’ll die with me, Doctor!”

“I know,” The Tenth whispered. Nobody heard him.

“Get out of the way!” The Master lunged forward, energy surging from his arms at The Lord President. “You did this to me! All of my life, you made me! _One! Two! Three! Four!_ ”

In a great flash of light, The Master, Rassilon, and the other Time Lords disappeared. Gallifrey withdrew from Earth’s atmosphere, rumbling away to its proper place.

The Tenth stood with wide eyes, stammering. “I’m alive. I’ve—there was—I’m still alive.”

“No thanks to the lad here, then,” The Seventh said sharply as he wound an arm round The Eighth’s shoulders.

“I’m not really a lad,” The Eighth laughed weakly as he dropped the gun to the floor.

The Tenth knew he did, indeed, need to thank himself, so he opened his mouth—

 _Knock-knock-knock-knock_.

—and then froze.

“They gone, then?” Wilfred called from the glass chamber. “Yeah, good-o. If you could let me out?”

The Tenth visibly sagged. “Yeah.”

Wilfred suddenly seemed tentative. “Only, this thing’s making a bit of noise.”

“The Master left the Nuclear Bolt running,” The Tenth explained weakly. “It’s gone into overload.”

“And that’s bad, is it?”

The Fourth approached the empty glass chamber next to Wilfred’s. “No...” He considered. “No, because all the excess radiation gets vented inside there. Vinvocci glass contains it. All five hundred thousand rads, about to flood that thing.”

“Oh. Well, you better get me out then—”

“Except,” The Fourth finished, his expression becoming one of worry, “it’s gone critical. Touch one control and it floods.”

The Third fished out his sonic screwdriver and studied it. After a moment he shook his head. “Even this would set it off.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilfred apologized timidly.

The Sixth slapped his hands on his hips, retorting, “Sure.”

“Look, just leave me.”

“Okay, right. I will,” The Tenth agreed satirically, his face aggrieved. “Because you _had_ to go in there, didn’t you? You had to go and get stuck, oh yes. Because that’s who you are, Wilfred. You were always this. Waiting for me all this time, just like the prophecy said.”

“No, really, just leave me,” Wilfred pleaded. “I’m an old man, Doctor. I’ve had my time.”

The Tenth thrust out a hand towards him, bursting out, “Well, exactly. Look at you. Not _remotely_ important. But me? I could do so much more. So much more! But this is what I get. My reward.” Whirling, he bashed a metal tray off a table, startling all present as he screamed, “ _And it’s not fair!_ ”

Before he could go on a rampage, strong hands gripped his shoulders. He looked up, his tear-filled eyes locking with The Ninth’s.

“I can’t have details, but tell me why I would regenerate into you. Tell me!” The Ninth ordered in a whisper.

The Tenth’s lips barely moved as he mumbled heartbrokenly, “A...sacrifice.”

The Ninth nodded. “Alright.” His blazing blue eyes softened slightly. “Isn’t that the best way to go?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, living and reliving something cold, painful, but altogether worth the world.

The Tenth drew in a shaky breath. “Oh...Oh, I’ve lived too long.”

The Ninth released him slowly, knowing that he would turn toward the chambers. His hearts pounding double-time, The Tenth did so and shuffled slowly toward the door.

Wilfred knew what he was doing. “No. No, no, please, please don't. No, don't! Please don't! Please!”

“Wilfred,” The Tenth stopped him wearily. “It's my honor.” A pause. “Better be quick. Three, two, one.” In a moment he was inside the chamber, letting the radiation pour into him. His mouth opened in a silent scream as he fell and curled in a fetal position.

A few breathless moments later, The Tenth sat up. The First leapt forward, pulling on the door of the chamber.

“Oh, now it opens,” he grouched as The Tenth emerged.

“So...still with us?” The Fifth observed tentatively.

“The system’s dead. I absorbed it all,” The Tenth explained deliberately. “Whole thing’s kaput.” When Wilfred commented about the cuts on his face, he slowly swept a hand over it and his skin mended.

“But they’ve—your face. How did you do that?” Wilfred cried, astonished.

All the Doctors knew. “It’s started,” The Third affirmed sadly.

The Doctors conferred among themselves for a bit, and then they began to drift back to their own timelines. Each offered condolences for The Tenth before they left. At last it was only the First who remained.

“Wherever you’re going next, Doctor, I think I’ll come with you,” he said mildly. The Tenth nodded gratefully.

“Where... _are_ you going?” Wilf questioned.

The Tenth took a deep breath. “To get my reward.”

~+~

Mickey Smith was studying his map, planning an escape route from a Sontaran for himself and his wife Martha. “If we go in here and down to the factory floor, and down past that corridor, then he won't know that we're here.

Mickey and Martha looked up toward the catwalk behind them.

“Hey!” Mickey cried to the familiar face of The Tenth. His brows furrowed a moment later when he saw the white-haired man whose hand lay on The Tenth’s shoulder. “I thought he chose younger, female companions.”

“No...he feels familiar too,” Martha murmured in confusion. “Like...I’ve met him before. But I couldn’t’ve...” She glanced at her husband and then back up at the catwalk.

The two figures were gone and the TARDIS engines were sounding. Tightly she hugged Mickey and waited for the noise to fade before moving on.

~+~

Luke Smith chattered away on his cellphone. “That was the maddest Christmas ever, Clive. Mum still doesn't know what happened. She got Mister Smith to put out this story saying that Wi-Fi went mad all across the world, giving everyone hallucinations. I mean, how else do you explain it? Everyone with a different face...”

All at once two people seized him and forced him to backpedal. A car zoomed by, narrowly missing them. When Luke looked into the face of his rescuers.

“But it’s you!” Luke exclaimed in shock. “You’re—”

The Doctor and the other man released him and pivoted in sync. Luke began calling for his mother.

Sarah Jane met him on the sidewalk. “What? What is it?”

“It’s him. It’s The Doctor! Two of them!” Luke gasped, pointing.

Sarah recognized The Tenth first and then remembered stories told to her of The First. She was unable to mask the perplexion on her face. What instance could have caused The First to accompany The Tenth?

The two Doctors smiled and waved.

~+~

The eyes of Jack Harkness followed the piece of paper that slid toward him.

“From the man over there,” the barman told him.

Normally Jack wouldn’t have cared, but his curiosity was aroused by the amount of drink he’d consumed. Therefore he opened the folded paper and read the four words scrawled there.

_His name is Alonso._

Perplexed, Jack looked up and spotted, across the way, The Doctor. He stood with something not unlike a grimace of reluctance on his face.

Jack raised his eyebrows questioningly when he saw the spiffy gentleman standing with The Doctor. _Is he your...?_

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed into evil slits. _No, he’s not_ , they burned back at him. Unfazed, Jack saluted and then turned toward the officer—Alonso—who sat next to him.

~+~

“No, it's not just a story, no. Every word of it's true,” Verity Newman announced. “I found my great grandmother's diary in the loft. She was a nurse in 1913 and she fell in love with this man called John Smith. Except he was a visitor from another world. She fell in love with a man from the stars and she wrote it all down.”

With a flourish Verity signed the book, _A Journal of Impossible Things_ , for the young man in front of her. The man thanked her and walked off, allowing the next to step up to the table.

“Who’s it for?” Verity didn’t bother looking up. It was nearing the end of the day and she was weary.

“Two, actually, for The Doctor,” a voice replied.

“To...The Doctor,” Verity recited as she wrote. As she looked up, she commented, “Funny, that's the name he used.

The Doctor looked at Joan Redfern’s great-granddaughter with kind, sad eyes. “Was she happy in the end?” he inquired softly, hopefully.

Verity’s heart pounded as she answered, “Yes. Yes, she was. Were you?”

The Tenth swallowed hard and stepped back, allowing The First to pick up the two copies.

~+~

Sylvia Noble followed her daughter out of the church with happy tears filling her eyes. She watched as Donna ordered everyone to gather round for the picture and couldn’t help but smile when Nerys got the teasing she deserved. Really, she shouldn’t have worn peach...

After watching suspiciously as Minnie flirted with her father, Sylvia turned away, looking into the distance, and her breath caught in her throat. She grabbed at Wilfred’s arm, whispering, “Dad.”

Wilfred saw the TARDIS then, also, and the two of them eagerly approached The Doctor. “And here you are, eh? Same old face. Didn't I tell you you'd be all right?” He gave The First a puzzled look, as though wondering why he was still there, but went on to tell about the aftereffects of The Master’s plot.

When Wilfred was finished, The Tenth said slowly, “I just wanted to give this to you. Wedding present. Thing is, I never carry money, so I just popped back in time, borrowed a quid off a really lovely man. Geoffrey Noble, his name was. Have it, he said. Have that on me.”

Sylvia pressed a hand over her mouth and cried.

~+~

After a few moments’ conversation, Rose and her mum parted in the snowy darkness of the New Year. Rose shoved her hands in her pockets and strolled, enjoying the crisp air, but paused when she heard a grunt of pain. Turning, she noticed a man slumped in the shadows.

“You alright, mate?” she called in a friendly voice.

“Yeah,” he answered tightly.

Rose gave him a sympathetic smile. “Too much to drink?”

“Something like that.”

Rose lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “Maybe it’s time you went home,” she suggested.

“Yeah,” he agreed again.

“Anyway. Happy New Year,” Rose said.

“And you.” That would have been the end of it, but the man suddenly burst out, “What year is it?”

Rose laughed gently. “Blimey, how much have you had? 2005, January the first.”

“2005,” he repeated slowly. He lifted his head somewhat and Rose met the spark of his eyes in the dim light. “Tell you what—I think you’re going to have a _great_ year.”

Rose’s eyebrows lifted. “Yeah? See you.” She began walking again and bumped into another stranger. “Sorry.” She gestured toward the shadows. “Hey, I think he might need a lift.”

The white-haired fellow nodded agreement. “Yes, child, that’s what I plan on doing.” He smiled ruefully and patted her arm.

Rose tromped on, but the words of the two men weren’t erased by the next layer of snow.

~+~

“Why did you stay with me?” The Tenth ground out, clutching his middle.

“From what I’ve heard from our other selves, my regenerations are...traumatic,” The First replied. “I want to be there for you.”

The Tenth gasped in pain and stumbled, but his fellow Doctor caught him before he landed. When they looked up, a lone form stood across the way.

“Is that an Ood?” The First muttered under his breath.

“We will sing to you, Doctor,” Ood Sigma said calmly. “The universe will sing you to your sleep. This song is ending, but the story never ends.”

Sweet, sorrowful music filled The Doctors’ ears as they made their way into the TARDIS. The Tenth sagged against the console. His face glowed with sweat, like the sparkling sheen on a bubble’s surface just before it pops.

The Tenth shakily worked the TARDIS controls, setting coordinates to anywhere and everywhere. He trembled violently, almost seizure-like, as he circled once, twice around the room. Then The First stopped him, knowing just as well as he did that it was time. The Tenth clutched at him like he was an anchor.

“I don’t wanna go!” he gasped out, tears welling in his eyes.

The First wore a grim expression as he pressed The Tenth’s hand between his own. The Tenth’s vision blurred with an overwhelming, agonizing, all-too-familiar light, blocking out all sight. Crashing glass and crackling fire and terrible, terrible pain...!

When The Eleventh came to himself, he found that he was alone—and crashing.

 


End file.
